


The End

by RemisVelisque



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Adventure, Angst, Dean - Freeform, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Dean x Cas - Freeform, Dean x Reader, Episode: s05e04 The End, F/M, Fiction, Fluff, I Blame Tumblr, Kissing, Lots of kissing, Lots of sarcasm, Love, Romance, SPN - Freeform, Sam - Freeform, Sam Winchester - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, Suspense, Sweet, Time Travel, What Was I Thinking?, Why Did I Write This?, Zombies, added my own character, basically a rewritten episode, cas, it's complicated - Freeform, problematic, rewritten, season 5, season five, third person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-05-01 11:09:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5203568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemisVelisque/pseuds/RemisVelisque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets a glimpse of the future in which humans have been infected with a demonic virus that turns them into zombies. Except this time, he isn't sent alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The End

**Author's Note:**

> If the summary didn't sound familiar yet, this is basically a rewritten version of season 5 episode 4, where Dean is sent to the future. Except this time he isn't sent alone.

“Dean, tell me this isn’t true.”

“Alright. It ain’t true.” 

She glances at him, annoyed. A horde of zombies made their way past them, as they crouched against the wall of a corner they just cut through, hoping to outsmart the horde.  
When several minutes passed after the last zombie stumbled near them, she drops and surrenders against the wall breathing deeply. 

“Zombies...” she mumbles, more to herself than anything else. 

“C’mon. We should head out before they come back.” Dean stands and glances around the corner. Not taking his eyes off the street, he holds out his hand for her.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was I the only one seeing a pack of zombies running across the street?” she snorts sarcastically. 

“Which is why we need to keep moving.” He glances at her briefly. “Street’s clear. For now.”

“And go where, Dean?” she’s hesitant, but takes his hand anyway. As she stands she hears the sound of wheels approaching. Though, not the sound someone’d expect from an ordinary car. 

“Zombies can drive?” she hisses into his ear. He shushes her immediately. Dean points his finger towards the street opposite of them, towards something she can’t quite see yet. But it seemed obvious the vehicle was making its way towards them, the sound of metal scraping across the floor grew louder with every whir.  
It had gotten the attention of several members of the undead. They stumbled their way towards the source of the noise, and somewhere she felt envious of how they got to roam the streets freely and explore when all she could do was hide.  
That feeling washed away quickly, however, when she saw a large shape emerge from the shadows. A tank, several meters tall appeared, driving full speed and heading for the zombies.  
She could see soldiers sitting on both sides of the vehicle, one with a cigarette sticking between his lips and another with a bottle of liquor on his lap. All of them were armed with machine-guns, except for the soldier aiming the turret. 

“Hit it boys!” she heard one of them call. And there was a sudden blast of country music filling the air. It came from within the tank, seemingly encouraging the soldiers to start their assault. Gunshots were flying all over the place, it made her wonder if the soldiers were simply shooting anything they thought was moving.  
The noise of it all attracted even more undead and this simply encouraged the soldiers to make even more noise.  
It was madness. 

Dean turned away from the scene and walked past her to see if there was a way for them to escape through the back. Their road was blocked by a low-maintenance iron fence. He shook it twice before deciding it was steady enough to climb. “Hey, over here! Can’t blame zombies for having an awful taste in music. Might as well take advantage of the situation.” It took him exactly four seconds to scramble over the fence and land on both feet on the opposite side.  
“You comin’?” he asks her. The sound of guns firing was still very much audible. It put her on edge.

She rolls his eyes at him, sprints and manages to cartwheel her way over the railing without effort. When she lands she meets his eyes with brows raised. 

“Yeah, yeah, alright, no one likes a show-off.” 

“And here I was putting all my effort in impressing you!” 

“Honey, if-...” Dean’s mouth stays open for another second before he closes it suddenly. He furrows his brows at something he sees standing behind her. He steps closer to the fence and rubs his sleeve against an old yellow sign hidden underneath stains of filth.  
She can read the words ‘hot zone’, ‘virus’, ‘kroatoan’ and ‘Kansas City’, but it wasn’t until Dean cleaned the bottom parts clean that a particular term caught her attention.

August 1st 2014

“We’re five years in the future?” she whispers to herself.

“Make that five years in Kansas.” He scoffs, but there was something about the way he frowned afterwards that made her realize Dean wasn’t particularly fond of their time-travel discovery. “Let’s go find a car.”

-

They drove quietly in the silence of the night. The absence of other cars, or people in particular, helped maintain a tranquil ambience. Dean managed to restart the engine of an abandoned Volkswagen not far from the main road and they were off to find Bobby. If they were lucky, she thought, Bobby would have defended himself from the zombies and still lived in his own house. He’d always been the one prepared with years’ worth of food supplies and weaponry. Their chances of finding him were big, and she was grateful. Maybe they’d even find Sam, taking shelter with Bobby… and future Dean. She might even find her future self. 

“Kroatoan pandemic reaches Australia.” 

She hears the ruffle of a newspaper and turns to see Zachariah sitting in the passenger seat behind her. Without hesitation she takes her knife out and aims it at his throat.  
Dean curses, glancing behind him, but he keeps driving. 

“I thought I smelled your stink on this back to the future crap.” He says. 

Zachariah ignores the pressing of her knife against his skin and continues reading past her hands.

“President Palin defends bombing of Houston. Certainly a buyer’s market in real estate...” he flips the page, careful not to move his neck area. 

“Let’s see what’s happening in sports.” His eyes roll over the pages, taking his time leisurely. Then he looks up, straight at her and purses his lips. He almost looks disappointed. 

“That’s right- No more sports. Congress revoked the right to group assembly. What’s left of congress, that is. Hardly a quorum, if you ask me.” The angel averts his gaze to Dean. 

“How did you find us?” he demands. 

“Afraid we had to tap some unorthodox resources of late-... human informants. We’ve been making inspirational visits to the fringier Christian groups. They’ve been given your image, told to keep an eye out.” Zachariah closes his newspaper and raises his brows as if waiting for something interesting to happen next. 

“The bible freak outside the motel-… he, what, dropped a dime on me?” 

“Onward, Christian soldiers.” 

“Okay, well, good, great. You’ve had your jollies. Now send us back, you son of a bitch.”

“Oh, you’ll get back. All in good time. We want you to marinate a bit.”

“Marinate?” she interrupts. She feels the strain of her fist, still clenching the knife at the angel’s throat.

“Three days. Three days to see where this course of action takes you.” 

Her patience is running low and he wasn’t making any sense. Why were they sent five years into the future? She couldn’t just cut his throat without getting any answers first.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean demands. 

“It means that your choices, Winchester, have consequences.” Zachariah snaps the newspaper to emphasize his words, holding the front page up so she and Dean could read it. She lowers her knife slightly, just to make up the letters. 

“This is what happens to the world if you continue to say “no” to Michael.” 

“I call bullshit. How do we know this isn’t just one of your dirty little tricks? An illusion to deceive Dean and force him into something he already made clear he isn’t going to do.” Her knife is right back at his throat.

Zachariah sighs, rolling his eyes back at her.  
“Have a little look-see.” He muses. 

After his words she is suddenly launched forward, knife sent into nothing but the absence of-, well, a target. The angel disappeared on them, and the only thing he left behind was the newspaper on the passenger seat.  
She curses silently as she grabs the paper and moves back into her own seat. 

“You good?” Dean glances from the corner of his eyes. 

“Peachy. Stupid angel.” She mutters as she put her knife back into her pocket. Her hand then moves towards the car’s radio station, instinctively trying to soothe her nerves. 

“What about you? It seems to me that this trip is more about trying to convince you to change-… whatever this future might be.” Her shoulders slump back further into her seat while she fumbles with the buttons. 

“Yeah, well, I’d rather not talk about my feelings before I know everyone’s else’s still alive in this future.”

“You’re making it sound like it’s already your fault.”

“Let’s just get to Bobby first.”

As she starts to switch between channels she realizes all frequencies were currently occupied playing static noises. Complete radio silence. 

“Well that’s never a good sign.” She hears the hunter say. 

-

“Bobby?” Dean calls as he opens the backdoor. They had to fight off two zombies in order to cross the abandoned carpark in Bobby’s backyard. They were careful enough not to trigger any of the alarms, not that she expected them to still function after five years of deteriorating.  
It was discouraging, however, to know that the undead roamed freely so near to his house. Of course, there still was a house standing, so maybe, still some hope remained. 

“Bobby, we’re coming in!” he waves for her to follow him and they both set foot into the building.  
The furniture hadn’t been moved, but it still looked a bit off. Bobby was never the cleanest member of the crew, but the way his interior looked right now caught her off guard. His books were thrown all over the floor, as usual, but they were dusty and untouched. At least when he threw them in ‘the old days’ he’d usually pick them up a day later, because some hunter had called him for advice. 

The walls caught her attention too. Damp stains covered most of them, some even had dried up blood trails running from the ceiling down to the floor, leaving a big dark red spot on the carpet. It could have easily been mistaken for a wine spillage, but who was she kidding. It seemed more and more like the house had been abandoned.

As they headed straight towards the living area, Dean crouches down and picks a black object off the floor. She backs away from the smell it radiated, which surprised her, because practically the whole house seemed to stink, but she was curious as to see what it was. Dean folds it open and it turns out to be Bobby’s wheelchair.  
He drops to his knees to inspect it further. Three bullet holes marked the fabric where someone’s back would be situated, and one of them had dried up blood around its edges. 

“I’ll go check upstairs.” She offers, leaving Dean to investigate the rest of the floor.  
It was unnerving, to say the least, to find out how a place she once considered as a second home now turned into a house she’d find on a carnival, a haunted house. 

She walks into the first room, Bobby’s bedroom, and finds it empty. No surprise, she thought. Her feet shuffle past various piles of junk horded against the window, all the way to the other side of the room, even piling on the bed itself.  
It almost looked like a blockade. Maybe someone had tried to defend himself from intruders. Of course she hoped that wasn’t the case. 

The second room looked a lot like the first one. Same blockade, if not less-… organized. These piles looked more random, not exactly aligned in the way they had been in the bedroom, almost as if there wasn’t enough time to finish it.  
She shakes her head, not wanting to give it too much thought.  
Bobby wasn’t here. He probably hasn’t been for years. 

When she makes her way back downstairs she spots Dean with a piece of paper in his hands. He’s gazing at it intently, brushing his thumbs across the edges. As she steps closer she sees he’s holding a picture. 

“Is that Cas?” she gasps. His face was graced with a slightly bigger stubble than usual and his hair looked longer, ruffled. She’d recognize him either way, anyway, even though his usual attire was switched for hunter wear. Or the fact that his eyes seemed to have lost their glimmer. It made her frown, whatever Cas had to go through, she wishes she could have been there for him. She wishes he didn’t have to look so... deficient of life.  
The picture contained several other men too, in hunter outfits, holding their guns against their back casually, posing for the camera. Though, none of them seem to be smiling. She spots Bobby too, wheelchair and all. Relief washed over her.  
She didn’t recognize any of the other men. They were posing in front of a fence, similar to the one she and Dean crossed earlier today. This one too had a sign.

“Camp Chitaqua.” Dean reads. 

“Let’s go.”


	2. The Camp

It had been easy to find. The trip didn’t take too long, either.   
Of course, no trip feels short-lived when the current well-being and lives of loved ones were at stake. She wonders idly whether she’d get to chance to catch up with her future self. If she’d even have a future self.   
The picture Dean had held in his hands didn’t include her. It didn’t include Dean either, or his brother Sam. The thought wasn’t a pleasant one, but somewhere she expected the three of them to have taken the picture. That Sam would have been the one physically pressing the camera button, Dean directed the angle from which the picture would have to be taken and that she, herself, would be standing behind the two, forcing the men to pose. It was a ridiculous assumption, she knew that, but it was important to hope. 

Dean is crouching in front of her. In spite of the dark, she still managed to follow him effortlessly up until this point. They’re both hiding behind some shrubbery, regarding the same fence from the picture. 

“Whatever you do, don’t look to your two o’clock.” She whispers anxiously.   
Her gaze is set on the broken down car ‘parked’ in the middle of the field behind the fence. It was Dean’s baby…   
Leaves grew on the inside of the black impala, easily accessed through the shattered windows, scratches covered the exterior and her tires-, well, whatever was left of her tires, lay flat on the ground, as if they’d been crushed by the weight of holding the rest of the car up for years. 

“Oh, baby, no” he breathed. 

Several armed men passed by then, patrolling, probably.  
When they moved out of sight Dean took it as is queue to check up on the love of his life.   
She cursed silently when he made no effort to keep a low profile. He simply cut the chains off the fence and practically ran towards his car. Or, what was left of it. 

“We are trespassing; you know that right!?” she hisses. 

Dean doesn’t even pay attention anymore, he has time only to caress his baby and frown. 

She sighs and moves towards him. “I’ll check for Cas and Bobby through the back. You, uh, take your time.”

He hums in acknowledgement. Somehow she didn’t expect him to respond at all, so knowing he could still hear her was a small victory. 

She steps back, passing through the fence when she hears his voice distantly. 

“Oh, baby, what did they do to you?” she turns, and almost wants to respond with one of her usual sarcastic remarks, but just as she opens her mouth she sees a dark figure standing behind Dean. He hit him on his head, forcing the hunter to drop to the floor.   
She crouches down quickly, not wanting to be seen and focusses on the rogue. Her eyes widen in shock.   
It’s future Dean. 

He stares up and scans the area, and she bends as low as she can, trying to avert his gaze.   
This particular scenario held two sides for her. On one, Dean was still alive and kickin’ in the year 2014. It was the promise of one less person to worry about being alive.  
On the other, time had taken its toll on him, it seemed.   
If possible, he’d gotten even more muscular, yet seemed to have lost weight at the same time. His cheeks were situated hollower on his face, making his features appear stronger. He looked tougher, meaner, nothing like the Dean she had met for the first time almost a year ago.   
A vertical scar was situated across his forehead and down almost to the bridge of his nose. It must have been a deep cut, seeing how the pink tissue was still visible, even in the dim light of the moon. She was surprised, however, to see how his eyes, his beautiful green eyes, hadn’t changed. Unlike Cas had looked on the picture, this ‘Deen’ still held a certain twinkle in his eyes. It wasn’t much, but at least she had something to relate this person to the hunter now knocked out in the driver’s seat of the Impala. 

After he checked his surroundings to make sure Dean was the only intruder, he starts to pick him up. It was confusing to see. Deen hadn’t been startled at the sight of his own twin, at all. Of course, he’d still have gone through his years of hunting. He’d still have had experience with shapeshifters and doppelgangers, but it surprised her how little astonishment he had himself.

Two guards suddenly made their way towards him and he stops in his movements. Deen puts one of his hands on the roof of the car and greets them curtly.   
He mustn’t have wanted to scare the others. How would one explain the sudden appearance of an identical twin?   
They exchange a few words, though it seemed to her that Deen simply barked orders and the men were forced to nod and move on. 

When he made his way to one of the buildings behind him, she follows. 

-

He was their leader.

She noticed the way other men would bow their heads to him in acknowledgement. How women would come up to him with pieces of paper, lists of required supplies, she guessed, and swoon over him afterwards. It wasn’t an uncommon sight; Dean had always been sort of a figurehead.  
What surprised her, however, was how none of it really seemed to matter to him. This Deen acted so indifferent to it all, as if he accepted his role as leader only because there was nothing else for him to do. But she knew him. He loved taking control, showing off his skills, proving who’s boss, especially with Sam around. 

Oh.  
She hadn’t seen Sam around anywhere yet.   
Patrolling? Could he have set up camp elsewhere? 

Deen finally manages to carry Dean inside of what she could only make out as his private quarters.   
He’s careful, checking if anyone were watching him. Of course, it was still night-time and most of the other people had retreated to their own part of camp. She could see some of them through the illuminated windows.   
Deen, however, shut his curtains. 

She sighs, rolling over quickly to see if there were any windows on the other side of the building. Luckily, there were.

She peeks and sees a table being swept clear. All papers and emptied bottles of -it wouldn’t be him otherwise- whiskey were thrown to the floor. All of it was replaced with equipment she was all too familiar with. A silver knife, holy water, salt, and a leather notebook left open on a page with Latin incantations on how to exorcize a demon.   
It was only natural to presume that Dean still kept an eye out for the supernatural in the future.   
Especially when you happen to stumble upon an exact replica of yourself. 

He starts by cuffing the other man to a ladder standing upright against the wall. Deen was rough, almost seemed frustrated. And she understood, for some reason. It didn’t look like the hunter had a luxurious life going on at the moment, so seeing another problem literally walking in through the front door must’ve been somewhat of a setback for Deen.  
The knife went first, he decided, making a small incision in his younger self’s upper-arm. He frowns when all he sees is a little bit of blood. And when he walks back to grab some bandages, she thinks she even hears him curse a little.  
The holy water and exorcism, of course, were a failure too. 

He curses some more, nearly throwing one of his knives halfway across the room, and settles into a chair. He holds his head in both hands and rubs his temples. She felt sorry for him, fighting off the urge to simply walk through the door and give him a hug. Especially when what she sees next is Deen grabbing parts of a gun and beginning to assemble the stupid thing. He wasn’t just going to shoot Dean, was he?   
If so, he looked incredibly calm, if not a little annoyed, while thinking about it. 

She jolts up when she hears someone knocking on the door. 

“Sir, our men are done with their patrol. Campsite’s been locked. Ain’t no one leaving or comin’ through those gates.”

Deen scoffs softly. Appreciating the irony of his words, she guessed.

“Tell the men they deserve a good night’s rest. You too, Darren.”

“Thank you, sir.”

When he leaves, she scoops to her toes again and peeks through the window. He’s rubbing his chin over and over, staring at his younger self, as if by looking at him long enough all answers would unfold themselves in front of him. 

Why’d he have to look so _sad_.


	3. Deen

“What the hell?” it’s the first thing she hears coming out of Dean’s mouth. Or Deen’s mouth for that matter. The sound of rattling chains is the next thing she catches.  
She was leaning against one of the walls, outside, hiding under a window. It was the only way for her to eavesdrop on the conversation inside. 

“I should be asking that question, don’t you think?” probably Deen, she guesses. His voice was lower, deeper it seemed.

“In fact, why don’t you give me one good reason... why I shouldn’t gank you right here and now?”   
She moves up instantly, but makes sure she stays unseen. Dean was in trouble, as usual, and she had to be prepared, ready to intervene when necessary. Time would tell whether the hunter was capable enough of talking himself out of this mess himself.  
“Because… you’d only be hurting yourself.” Dean explains. But she hears it in his expression of words, he’s having trouble defending himself. 

“Very funny.”

The clicking of the assembly of a gun sounds next.  
Followed by Dean’s nervous laughter.

“Look man, heh, I’m no shapeshifter, or demon, or anything, okay?” 

“Yeah I know. I did the drill while you were out. Silver, salt, holy water-… nothin’.”

Deen inhales deeply.

“But you know what was funny-, was that you had every hidden lock pick, box cutter, and switchblade that I carry.   
Now, you want to explain that?   
Oh, and the, uh… resemblance, while you’re at it?” 

Silence. 

“Zachariah.” 

More silence. 

“Come again.” 

“I’m you from the tail end of 2009. Zach plucked me from my bed and threw me five years into the future.”

She praises Dean silently for not telling the other hunter about her presence and part in all of this. 

“Where is he? I want to talk to him.”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, you don’t know.”

“No, I don’t know. Look I just wanna get back to my own friggin’ year, okay?”

Soft footsteps move on the wooden floor. She hears one of them breathing sharply, the other inaudible. It takes her great effort not to barge in and see what was going on, but she refrains. It was important for Deen to come to trust his younger self. 

“Okay. If you’re me… then tell me something only I would know.”

It sticks to silence for another while after those words again. Interrupted only by a scoff on either one’s side.   
However, she can pinpoint exactly when inspiration hit Dean to form his answer. He draws in air and starts stalking. 

“Rhonda Hurley.” He says. 

“We were-, uh, nineteen. She made us try on her panties. They were pink. And satiny. And you know what?  
We kinda liked it.”

Two hands covered her mouth upon hearing Dean’s revelation. It shouldn’t have surprised her, really, but she couldn’t refrain herself from laughing. Now she was stuck shaking involuntarily on the cold floor outside, trying not to make a sound.

“Touché.”

She calms down and slides back into position.   
“So what, Zach zapped you up here, to see how bad it gets?”

“I guess.”

“Kroatoan virus, right? That’s their endgame?”

“It’s efficient, it’s incurable, and it’s scary as hell. Turns people into monsters. Started hitting the major cities about two years ago. World really went into crapper after that.”

“What about Sam?” 

She inclines her head, hoping for a better angle for her ears to pick up more sound. She’d been sitting on that spot for a while now, occasionally catching a glimpse of the men passing by the area, but she’s never been able to catch a glimpse of Sam… Or Bobby for that matter. Or Cas.

“Heavyweight showdown in Detroit. From what I understand, Sam didn’t make it.”   
Her heart drops in her chest. 

“You weren’t with him?”

“No. No, me and Sam, we haven’t talked in-, hell… five years.”

“We never tried to find him?” Dean’s worry was evident in his tone. 

“We had other people to worry about.”

“Where are you going!?” 

“I’ve gotta run an errand.” 

“Whoah, you’re just gonna leave me here?”

“Yes. I’ve got a camp full of twitchy trauma survivors out there with an apocalypse hanging above their head. The last thing they need to see is a version of ‘the parent trap’. So, yeah, you stay locked down.”

“Okay. All right. Fine. But you don’t have to cuff me, man.” 

Deen didn’t seem to stop in his steps to be reasoned with.

“Oh come on, you don’t trust yourself?”

“No.   
Absolutely not.”

She stands when she hears the sound of a door closing. 

“Dick.” Dean curses. 

He stares up at the window when she slides in through it, suddenly shy.  
Her legs land gracefully on the wooden floor, making sure she makes a little noise as possible. And when she looks down at the scene in front of her she burst into laughter. The hunter managed to twist his hands deeper into his cuffs, at a very strange angle. 

“You got stuck in the ladder!?” she spurts.

“Oh,- ha-ha. How long have you been eavesdropping on me, anyway?” Dean shifts uncomfortably, rattling the chains around his wrist. 

He frowns a little, pouty mouthed, as she moves closer to fumble with the lock on his cuffs. As if he’d been busted, a child caught stealing from the cookie jar, forced to put all the delicious sweets back into place. His cheeks coloured a bit, but it could’ve just been the shadow of his face, darkening his cheeks complexion. 

“Relax. If anything, I reckon only Sam will hear me gossip about your laced panties. You’re not wearing them now, though, are you?” she steps back as the cuffs drop to the floor. 

Dean rubs the sensitive skin around his wrist and moves into a standing position, facing her. 

“One word, and I’m leaving you here. Go see if my future version found out a way to tolerate your sense of humour.” 

“Something tells me Deen isn’t one for appreciating jokes anymore…” she mumbles. 

They stare at each other, then. The air tense all of a sudden. It occurred to her then that this had been Dean’s first meeting with, well, himself. Surely he must’ve seen the changes in his behaviour, the scar on his face, his rougher attitude.   
It was strange for her to see him, but it must’ve been downright bizarre for Dean. 

“Can’t blame him… World really went to crapper, it seems.”

“So it seems.” She half-smiles at him. “Wanna talk about it?”

His eyes widen involuntarily, taken aback briefly. But he recomposes himself, arching one of his brows as he crosses his arms. It’s his typical defence-pose, she’d seen him do it countless times before. 

“Dean...” she starts before she allows him to brush her off. But he beat her to it. 

“I don’t. No.”

She nods. 

“C’mon. Let’s go find someone who hasn’t died five years in the future. Physically or mentally.” He scoffs. 

Dean makes his way towards the door, but stops when he feels her hand on his arm. 

She pulls at him softly, gripping around his upper limb. His neck is inclined the other direction, gritting his teeth. She steps forward and embraces him, putting her own arms around his neck, pressing herself against him.   
He feels stiff, not moving, just… standing there. 

“I’m sorry about Sam. This ‘future’, whatever it might be… It’s not your fault. You and I, we can fix it. Make sure it never happens. And it won’t ever happen.” She whispers softly. 

It takes a few seconds before she feels him move beneath her touch. 

Even if it was only to push her away.

“We should head out.”


	4. Stoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Quick backstory_...
> 
> she and Cas go way back, as in, before meeting the Winchesters back. They'd always been a team, just the two of them, so now she meets him five years in the future and what she meets, well, it doesn't really do her any good.

She never expected the first person they’d meet to be the prophet. Well, sure, they were important beings in their supernatural world, but… Chuck wasn’t exactly the first name that popped to mind when thinking of apocalypse survivors.  
He strolled by, casually, holding a set of papers in his hands, held together by a piece of cardboard. He seemed surprised to spot Dean roaming outside.

They decided it would be safer to keep her on the down low, while Dean had the liberty of showing his face more. Dean was still alive in the future, and out on patrol. But they weren’t sure about her whereabouts, so it was safer to keep her hidden from other faces. No one needed another commotion around who died and who magically appeared in camp, when they could have immigrated to the other side of the world for all they knew. So she hid. Kneeling somewhere between the bushes near the tents. 

“You got a second?” the prophet asked. 

“No- Yes! I-I guess. Hi Chuck.”

She rolls her eyes at Dean’s response. _Deen_ was a confident, traumatized douchebag. He needed to work on his act if he wanted to snoop around camp more, pretending to be his future-self.  
Unfortunately, Dean heard her snort disapprovingly, now earning her an angry stare. She raises her shoulders and gives him a ‘I’m-not-the-one-failing-right-now’ look. 

“Hi. So, uh, listen. We’re pretty good on canned goods for now, but we’re down to next to nothing on perishables and-… and hygiene supplies. People are not gonna be happy about this. So, what do you think we should do? “

“I- I don’t know. Maybe, uh, share? You know, like in a kibbutz”

Her brows raise in surprise. This would be leading a camp full of trauma survivors in the next five years? Maybe Zach made a miscalculation. Maybe they were ten years into the future. He’d need that amount of preparation.

“Wait a minute. Aren’t you supposed to be out on a mission right now?”

“Absolutely. And I will be.”

Suddenly a woman approaches behind him. Brown locks framed her face, as if she just rolled out of bed. She was pretty, though, she’ll admit, but her face looked funny. Was she frowning? She couldn’t tell from where she was watching. Too many leaves blocked her view. 

“Uh oh.” Chuck mumbles.

The brunette leaped forward, throwing her fist at Dean at full speed. He dodged the assault in a nick of time and hurriedly hides behind the prophet. She wasn’t sure what to make of the situation.

“Whoa! Geez! Easy, lady!” he pleads.

“Risa.” Chuck reminds him.

“Risa!” Dean confirms.

“You spent the night in Jane’s cabin last night, didn’t you?” the woman actually had her hands on her hips. Sassy thing, she thought. Of course, that had always kind of been Dean’s type. 

“Uh, what? I-I don’t- Did I?” Dean turns to Chuck questioningly. 

The prophet gives him an apologetic look and nods.  
“Yeah, you were.” He whispers.

“I thought we had a ‘connection’” she emphasizes her words by making a hand gesture. 

“Well, I’m sure that we do”

“Yeah?”

She steps forward menacingly, earning a cry for help from Dean, but retreats, storming off. 

“Hi Risa” Chuck’s voice was soft. He was scared too, she could tell. 

“Screw you”

After she left, it seemed that Dean could finally breathe again. 

“Oh, geez I’m getting busted for stuff I haven’t even done yet.” He says.

“What?”

“Uh, never mind. Hey, Chuck is... Cas still here”

She moves up a little, wanting to hear the answer to that question. She hadn’t seen Cas walking around anywhere, yet. Where was her angel?

Chuck chuckles when he hears Dean’s question. An almost confused expression passed his face briefly before he speaks. 

“Yeah. I don’t think Cas is going anywhere. He’s in his tent, as usual.”

“Thanks, Chuck.”

He moves back to where she was hiding, taking a little detour, making sure no one was watching him.  
Dean crouches next to her and inclines his neck. He has his hands folded together in front of him, leaning his elbows on his knees. She remembers this position all too well. He’d sat the same way when he told her Sam had been back off the rails and drinking demon blood again. When he remembered how hard they both worked to get him clean again.  
Was he preparing her for something bad again? 

“I’m not sure whether future Cas’ll be as disappointing as future me. You ready to find out?”

She inhales deeply. Her eyes meet his and she nods. Dean knew how much she cared for Castiel. If anything, she needed to see how the angel survived the apocalypse. One he’d so desperately tried to prevent. 

-

Dean went in first. Making sure no one else was inside who could possibly recognize her. She leaned against the wooden entrance of what should be Castiel’s tent. Moving closer, she was able to make out his voice. Or… was it?

“Now, the key to this… total shared perception is, uhm- it’s surprisingly physical.” 

What the hell was he blabbing on about? The strong-willed, majestic leader of the garrison was mumbling something about shared perception? Sharing physical perception? He, who every time she tried to hug him, counted the seconds to when he could pull back without seeming impolite? It could be her nerves working, anxious about seeing her friend again. But something was off.  
When she was still able to make out Dean’s shadow in the hallway she reaches out for him and drags him back outside. He looks at her, worriedly. Expecting an explanation.

“That’s not Cas talking.” She whispers. 

Dean rolls his eyes. 

“So he’s changed a little. Hell, I’ve turned into grumpy from the seven dwarves. Don’t back off now.”

“Dean, I- “

Her mouth closes instantly when she hears the sound of someone moaning from inside. 

“Well, sounds like someone’s finally having a little fun.” Dean grins.

She shoots him an angry glare before proceeding inside herself. 

When she reaches a curtain covering the entrance to the room she suspects Castiel was in, Dean puts an arm out in front of her. He nudges her back gently and steps through. 

“Excuse me, ladies, I think I need to confer with our fearsome leader for a minute.”

Ladies? She bites the inside of her cheek and crosses her arms as she falls back against the wall. Note to self, she thought, never leave Cas alone in times of an apocalypse. 

“Why not go get washed up for the orgy.” 

She can practically hear Dean’s sharp intake of breath coming from the other side of the curtain. Never had she thought to hear those words coming out of the angel’s mouth. Ever. 

When she can breathe normally again, several women pass her on the hallway. None of them seem to notice her, though, so she doesn’t think it’s a big deal. For all they know she’s here for the _orgy_. 

“You’re all so beautiful” she hears Cas say to the last ones leaving. And as the final woman passes through the curtain, Dean holds it open for her to enter. 

Castiel has his back towards her. He’s standing, facing the window, stretching his back. Behind him a few candles lay on the floor. It’s as if he was sitting with the group in a circle.  
The room’s warm and smells of… well, bodies. She doesn’t want to know what activities took place in here. 

“What are you, a hippie?” Dean moves towards the angel. Hands folded open, hoping for an explanation for all this. 

“Haven’t you gotten over tryin’ to label me?” he’s stretching his neck now, still not facing them. 

Dean walks to stand in front of him and Castiel suddenly stops moving.

“Cas, we gotta talk.” 

“Woah… strange.”

“What?”

“You. Are not you. Not now you, anyway.”

“No! Yes, I mean, yes. Exactly.”

“What year are you from?”

“2009”

Cas puffs out a breath of air, as if he almost couldn’t believe it himself. 

“Who did this to you? Is it Zachariah?” he wonders.

“Yes”.

“Interesting.” He rubs his chin, as if giving it thought. 

“Oh, yeah, it’s friggin’ fascinating. Now, why don’t you strap on your angel wings and- “ 

Dean was still mid-sentenced when Castiel suddenly burst into laughter. It surprised her how genuine it sounded, yet completely unnerved her. 

“…fly us back to our page on the calendar.”

Several seconds passed before Cas’ laughter finally died out. Dean had turned to face her in the meantime, looking as concerned as she had felt. 

“I wish I could, uh, just- strap on my wings, but uh, I’m sorry no dice.”  
The laughter continued. 

“What are you, stoned?” Dean demanded. 

It was then, that he turned and went back to facing the room. She saw how his smile looked… off. He’d started laughing hysterically again, and somewhere she felt sorry for him.

His stubble definitely grew, along with the hairs on his head. His trench coat was gone, but she knew that from looking at Dean’s picture already. It was traded for a simple light blue blouse, loosely falling over his chest. That, and other than the now more prominent wrinkles around his eyes, he pretty much stayed the same. Physically of course. 

“Generally, yeah” he smirks. 

But when his eyes met hers, he didn’t react the way she thought he would. He sees her, finally, and he rubs his eyes. Then, taken aback, starts smiling the most face-splitting grin she’s ever seen someone smile. 

“Definitely. High.” He repeats. 

Dean moves from looking at her and then back at looking at Cas. 

“You think you’re _hallucinating_ now?” 

“I think so”

Her brows furrow, hoping for some kind of recognition from her former friend. Her best friend. Her only friend. 

“Cas” she speaks.

But he still gives her the feeling he doesn’t recognize her anymore. Or wants to, anyway.

She steps forward, pressing the palm of her hand against his cheek. Feels the warmth radiating off his skin. She doesn’t remember him ever feeling this warm. This human.   
He nudges it gently, playfully, as if he were in some sort of a dream state, playing with his environment. He grins at her. But it just makes her sadder than she already felt upon seeing him.

“What happened to you, Cas?” 

Another wave of laughter spreads through him. 

“Uh- life?” 

She drops her hand and lets it fall to her side, the inside of her palm still tingling from the stubbles of his chin.   
Without really giving it much thought, she steps even closer and stares him in the eyes. She was hoping to see… well, something. Recognition? A glimmer of hope?   
But the two blue orbs had lost their shine. They seemed to have lost their vibrant blue and instead radiated something closer to a fogged greyish undertone.

Not knowing what to do next, she stares at Dean who looked equally confused.  
He licks his lips. 

“Cas, buddy.” He says as he puts an arm on the angel’s shoulder. 

“You haven’t called me ‘buddy’ in a long time, Dean.” 

“Why am I not surprised” 

“What?”

“Nothing. Just- “ 

The sound of vehicles approaching stumbles the three of them. She steps towards the window and holds the curtain up for Dean to peek through as well.   
She sees armed men closing the fence behind the cars and others jumping out of them. They were covered in durt and sticky redness she could only imagine to be blood.  
One of them caught her attention in particular, as his movements seemed familiar, though she couldn't quite place why she thought she recognized him. 

"Oh great, he's back." Dean mumbles. 

Her eyes try to focus, but her concentration's gone the second she notices Dean making his way outside towards the men. 

"Dean!" she tries to call, but he'd already walked through the door. 

A frustrated sigh leaves her lips as she moves back to the window. Her eyes were set on the guys outside and Dean stumbling to reach them.  
She jumps when she feels a hand on her shoulder, but it's only Cas trying to catch a glimpse of the scenario outside. 

"Do not be alarmed." he reassures her.

"Right. Yeah." 

When she looks back she spots _Deen_ crossing the terrain. He'd come back.


	5. Recognition

He offered them beer. They returned from a battlefield, filled with hordes of zombies and they decided to drink beer.  
She saw Dean, still marching to reach them, with a facial expression that told her he held the same thought.  
Something was wrong. 

One of the armed men had his back towards Deen after taking a large sip out of his can. Upon hearing something rustle behind him (that would be Dean, pushing his way through several bushes), he turned and now stood face to face with Deen. He held a gun at arm’s length, aiming it at the man’s face. 

“Woah! Hey, watch out!” Dean called.

To no prevail. 

The can of beer fell to the floor, along with the now deceased man. He got shot in clear daylight.  
She turns to Cas, still standing beside her. But it didn’t look like much of a surprise to him. She hoped it simply didn’t affect him because he still had drugs running through his veins. 

“Why’d he do that?” she asks.

This future version of Dean was getting scarier and scarier. She never wanted this for him. The pain, anguish, always visible in his eyes. It showed through the way he held his composure. How he stood tall and brave, yet his shoulders betrayed a small hunch. A flaw, they slumped slightly as if in defeat. 

“I believe he was infected.” 

She turns towards her former friend and sees he came to stand closer to her. A look in his eyes surprised her, and he did something then, that threw her off completely.  
Castiel frowned at her, reaching out one of his arms and putting it on her shoulder. Was he comforting her? It didn’t seem like he was testing her, figuring out whether he was still hallucinating. 

“You- “he began. “It’s really you.”  
“You’re making it sound like I left you here to care all for yourself. And see where that’s taken you.” She takes his hand and places it in her own. 

“Where’d I go, Cas?” she whispers, gently squeezing his hand. 

He closes his eyes and breaths in sharply. He was about to open his mouth until the sound of yelling disrupted the silence. 

“What the hell! I told you to stay put!” 

“You just shot that guy in front of your own men!” 

“This is none of your business! My time, my rules.”

She hurriedly turns her gaze back out of the window and sees Deen arguing with his former self.  
The men standing behind him looked as if they were seeing a ghost, turning their eyes from Deen to Dean.  
Their leader turned to them then, after gritting his teeth. 

“I’m not gonna lie to you. Me and him… it’s a pretty messed up situation we got going. But believe me, when you need to know something- you will know it.” 

He licks his lips.

“Until then we have work to do.”

They exchange looks and nod at him. Not entirely convinced, but probably not stupid enough to question Deen’s authority. Especially after seeing the menacing look he gave his doppelgänger.  
The men pack whatever equipment they had left in the truck and make their way back to the rest of camp. She notices Deen twitching his hand too close for comfort near his gun, after putting it back in its holster. 

“ _Don’t_!” she yells. 

Both Deans avert their gaze in her direction, one looking astoundingly more surprised than the other. If anything, Dean even looked annoyed upon hearing her voice. 

“ _She’s_ here too?” she hears Deen wondering aloud. 

When she’s close to reaching them she sees a hand appearing in front of her, holding away a few branches for her.  
She turns and sees Castiel standing behind her. 

“Thanks” she says a bit unsure. 

They both step out of the bushes and into view. 

“Dean, before you- “ 

She looks at _her_ Dean first, until she realizes Castiel was addressing his own. The younger hunter was scowling at her, probably annoyed at how she blew her cover. But when she turns to the other one, she noticed how he stood there, speechless. Eyes wide and mouth gaping in the slightest of ways. He looked thunderstruck.  
Somehow she still felt like he was happy to see her, though.  
His hands hung next to his body, motionless. Shoulders slumped in that same way, though, different too. As if the weight of he’d been carrying around for so long finally dropped off of him. And his eyes didn’t seem to leave hers. It was a bit unnerving, she admitted, it didn’t look like he’d seen her in a long time. 

He continued staring at her like that for at least several more minutes, still refusing to move. What was she to do but to answer by staring back at him. Even though inside she was struggling with the urge to run up to him and tell him ‘yeah, it’s me. Stop making such a big deal about it. It’s _just me_.’

“Get them inside.”  
She thinks he’s addressing Castiel, but he doesn’t seem to be moving. 

“Cas!” he calls again. 

The angel then seemed to come back to life and nods. 

“Right, follow me.” 

He turns and starts moving back to his tent. She follows after him, but not before she knew Dean was near. He grabs her arm and turns her towards him. Without breaking their pace, he leans in and whispers. 

“What the hell was that all about?”

“The staring-contest or the me-trying-to-save-your-life part?”

“You weren’t saving my life. D’you really think he, or, I, was going to shoot myself?”

“His hand twitched, Dean.” 

“Of course it twitched, he just shot his own man.”

He frowns then, turning his gaze on the moving floor below them. His grip on her loosens and he licks his lips. 

“I don’t know what he’ll do to you. That weird eye-thingy he got going on there, I don’t know what that means.”

“Shame. I was hoping you would.” 

She looks up at him and nudges his cheek with her nose. 

“Stop worrying about me. They know we’re here together now, so we might as well stay together.”

He smiles a little and nods at her words. 

“Good.” 

She peeks behind her to see whether Deen had followed them and spots him sulking at the two of them. 

“Dean, I think you should let go. He, I mean, you, don’t look too happy at the sight of us walking together.”

“Yeah, well, you know what, I can go screw myself.” He turns and stares at Deen with a wide grin spread across his face, until he realizes the irony of his words. 

“Not- literally… of course, I meant him.” 

Castiel smirks loudly, overhearing his words. He holds open the same beady curtain they stepped through before and made his way inside. Dean clears his throat and follows after him. 

-

Before she could physically set foot into Cas’ living room she’s yanked towards one of the walls, with her back pressed against concrete. She tries to protest, but her lips are shut tightly when she feels another mouth being pressed upon her own. 

“What the hell?” she hears Dean comment. Ah, not him then.

Two hands were wrapped around her shoulders, securing her into place forcefully. Not that she was thinking clearly enough to be able to move away, anyway.  
Her head spinned slightly, she doesn’t recall ever being kissed by someone so… desperately. 

Two lips moved against her own, lingering with a certain urge she’d never experienced before. It almost didn’t seem to matter that she stood there motionless, breathless.  
But she was alerted by the scent. She knew that fragrance, the smell of leather and alcohol. A heavy mixture, yet familiar enough to her own nose. One that was now squished against her cheek. 

Deen put enough effort in the kiss for two. 

He moves back, still straddling her, but enough for her to catch her breath. As did he, gasping for air with eyes wide, staring right into her own. 

“I was afraid this would happen” Castiel mumbles, more to himself than to anyone else. 

“Oh you were, were you? Hey buddy, why don’t you go grab one from your own timeline!?” Dean strides towards the pair but halts in his footsteps when she turns to look at him. 

She’s sad, all of a sudden. And her voice cracks a little when she speaks. 

“I don’t think I still exist in this timeline.”


	6. The morning after

“You. Me. A word.” 

Dean strides past them, his current course forcing him to collide his shoulder with _Deen_ roughly. 

She watches him as he leans away from her, not breaking eye contact. His forehead’s knotted together, tangled in an emotion she can’t describe. His mouth, still open, suddenly seemed so far away from hers. Yes, she had been surprised by this sudden turn of event, but it felt _good_. Even though she knew circumstances could have been… better. The kiss had happened for all the wrong reasons. She wasn’t here anymore. She died. He missed her. It was only a natural response, right? 

“Now!” 

“Alright, alright” 

He licks his lips and glances over her once more. The sight of it encouraged her to decide for herself. Something in his eyes sparked a wave of determination in her. Screw this, she thought. Dean wasn’t the only one in need of answers. 

“He’s not going anywhere.”

“The hell he is!”

“You’re not the only one with questions, Dean.”

It takes him a moment to respond, taking in her words and considering them. It doesn’t make him lose his frown, however. 

“She’s right.” Deen interrupts. 

“And since I don’t like repeating myself, we’re having a briefing in ten. Cas, inform the others. Tell them to meet us in my cabin.”

It shouldn’t have surprised her how future Dean had easily dominated his younger self. But seeing him left gaping in the door entrance had its appeal. 

“What others?” she wonders

However, both Deen and Cas were already making their way out of the room. Not before clashing shoulders against each other again, though, and Cas shooting Dean an apologetic look after. 

She couldn’t see Deen anymore, but the vague outline of Castiel’s shadow still lingered in the hallway. 

“The team. They, uh- we have the colt.”

“ _The_ colt?” Dean’s head snaps back into the hallway, probably facing Cas. 

“That was the mission? I- he, went to retrieve the colt?”

Though, she couldn’t hear an answer, she guessed he responded with a nod. Dean was left wondering either way. 

“ _Cas_!” 

“Yes! Coming!”

The shadow disappeared from view and she was left alone in the ‘chamber of orgies’ with Dean. Probably not the best place suited for them to be discussing their current plan of attack. 

He’s sulking, staring at the floor and gritting his teeth. It reminded her of that time he was forced to wait outside the operating room when Sam had gotten himself seriously injured on a hunt. The whole mission had been dangerous in the first place, but somehow those two brothers never seemed to mind. It was about saving people. The people came first. Never them. 

And now, he’s standing next to a beaded curtain, kicking his leg in the air. Unsure of what to do or how to act. And she couldn’t help him. If anything she’d probably be making things worse than they already were. Dean was angry and she couldn’t tell at who. Himself, future or present? Maybe both. At her? For getting herself killed so easily, leaving him to lead a pack of traumatizes apocalypse survivors all by himself? 

She hated this. 

“Dean- “ 

“Don’t.” 

He leaves the room. 

-

“So, that’s it? That’s the colt?” 

Risa is standing on the other side of the room. Hands on her hips, again. She hasn’t spotted the woman in a different position yet. Maybe her future version had. Or maybe they never met. Either way, she got the impression the woman wasn’t her biggest fan. She kept glaring at her from the corner of her eyes. 

“If anything can kill Lucifer, this is it.” 

Deen was admiring the polished steel currently laid on the table in front of him. He had his arms on both edges of the counter, leaning himself further forward. Dressed in the same jacket and jeans he’d been wearing to retrieve the damn thing, she figured the proud look in his eyes could only be justified by all the effort he put in retrieving it. 

Cas sat in a chair next to him, his feet on the table, facing Risa. Behind him, Dean held a cup of coffee in his hands. He decided to continue sulking, claiming the back of the room as his private quarters for the moment. She didn’t mind, however, giving him his space. She enjoyed her own corner of the room very much. Especially since she had a full view of each of their faces. 

She takes a sip of her own coffee. 

“Great.” Risa smiles sarcastically.

“We got anything that can _find_ Lucifer?” 

Deen looks up at her angrily. 

“Are you okay?” he says irritated. 

He’s standing at full length and Risa already had her mouth open to make another snobby comment when they all hear Dean interfering. 

“Oh, we were in, uh- Jane’s cabin last night. And apparently, we and uh, Risa, have a ‘connection’.”

Castiel’s giggle fills the room in its awkward silence. 

When he’s done, made possible through Deen glaring at him with the same annoyed look, the older hunter faces his younger self. 

“You wanna shut up?” 

Dean holds his hands up in defeat. 

“We don’t have to find Lucifer. We know where he is. The demon that we caught last week, he was one of the… big guy’s entourage. He knew.”

“So a demon tells you where Satan’s gonna be, and you just believe it?” 

Risa has her arms crossed at this point. 

“Oh trust me. He wouldn’t lie.” 

Something about the way Deen shared this fact with the group gave her a bad feeling. He almost smirked as he spoke those last words. Could he have gone back to his darker days?  
When she glances at Dean he has that same expression on his face. As if he knew exactly what she was thinking. She fumbles with her cup and frowns.

“And you know this how?” Risa continues. 

“Our, fearless leader…I’m afraid, is all too well schooled in the art of getting to the truth.” Cas explains.

Her eyes widen and she spots him shooting a quick glance at Dean.  
So she was right. And Cas _let_ him do this?

“Torture?” Dean guesses. 

He recomposes himself and places the now empty coffee cup behind him. One finger is pointed at Deen accusingly. 

“Oh, so we’re torturing again.”

He’s standing opposite of Deen on the other side of the table. Risa is eyeing him with suspicion. Her arms were still folded, but she notices how one of her fingers is tapping her other arm. 

“That’s…that’s good. Real classy.” 

It was at that moment she saw Cas easing back into his careless self. His grin grew into a chuckle and that chuckle evolved further into a wholehearted laughter. He almost seemed to be looking up at Dean with pure admiration in his eyes. Not that Dean was paying attention. But she’d seen that look before. She knew why Cas had always chosen his side. And why he, after the world literally went through an apocalypse, still remained at his side. Cas was his biggest fan. 

Even after Deen called upon his sudden outburst, he still grinned. 

“What? I like past you.” He turns and quickly winks at the hunter behind him. 

Dean clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably. But the slight tremor of his upper lip revealed how he really felt about Cas sticking up for him. He was hiding his smirk. The smug bastard even looked proud. 

Deen rolls his eyes and folds open a map on the table. 

“Why _is_ past you here?” 

She turns to see Risa eyeing her and Dean with that same suspicion in her eyes. 

Why couldn’t Dean just be attracted to shy girls who never dared to open their mouth, were kind and would never hurt a fly? Not that those were the type of people who’d survive a zombie apocalypse. The world was too cruel for that to ever come true. 

“Yeah, I’m sure Risa would much rather have Jane stand in his place.”

The words left her before she could fathom the consequences. 

Eight wide eyes now stared at her in surprise. She coughs and folds her arms together after securing her coffee cup on the table. 

“No offense, obviously.”

“What was that?” Risa spits. 

The woman has her hands clenched into a fist, standing in an offensive position. 

“Back off!” Deen roars. 

“She should back off! Who the hell does she think she is!?” Risa strides towards her, but an arm is placed on her shoulder and she is forced to a stop. 

Dean is looking down on her, now holding a grip on her with both hands. He has her own tied together on her chest. 

“Ain’t no one else from this timeline laying another finger on her. Especially you. Leave her alone.” 

“Typical. _I’m_ the bad guy.”

“Risa!” Deen moves up and glares at her, eyes intense. 

She frees herself and puts her hands up in defence. 

She still doesn’t seem to have calmed down, but she’s quiet. And she moves back to her spot without further complications. Her arms are folded back together when Deen continues.  
He’s back to facing the map in front of him.

“Lucifer’s here. Now. I know the block. I know the building.”

Castiel stands to take a closer look at the map. When he sees the highlighted location he sighs. 

“Oh good. It’s right in the middle of a hot zone.”

“Crawling with Croats.” Deen replies immediately. 

“Yeah, you sayin’ my plan is reckless?”

“Are you saying we, uh, walk in straight up the driveway, past all the demons and the Croats and we shoot the devil?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. If you don’t like reckless, I could use… insouciant, maybe-”

“Are you coming?” Deen interrupts. 

“Of course.” 

Cas sighs and then turns towards Dean, as if suddenly remembering he was there. 

“But why is he- I mean, he is you five years ago, if something happens to him you’re gone, right?”

“He’s coming.”

“Okay!” Castiel fakes enthusiasm. 

“And her?” Risa interjects. 

She’s giving her that special look of hers again. She figures she can only return the favour. 

“She’s staying here.”

“No I’m not.” 

“You’re staying and that’s final.”

She opens her mouth but no words escape her. She sees Dean moving next to her from the corner of her eye and hopes he’ll help. 

“So, what, you’re really planning on killing the devil?” 

“Yes. This ends. Now.” 

She clears her throat. But Dean doesn’t seem to address it further. 

“I’m coming!” 

Deen only looks at her. And as she turns to the hunter standing next to her, she notices how he’s averting her gaze. 

“We’ll uhm, we’ll get the grunts moving.” Castiel states.

“We’re loaded and on the road tomorrow morning.” Deen orders, not taking his eyes off her. 

She’s fighting the urge to snap out at him, but bites her tongue instead. 

“Alrighty!” Cas calls and he and Risa leave the room. Of course, not before Rise gives her one last glance herself. 

The door closes behind them and she’s left convincing the most stubborn person she knows and his friggin’ doppelgänger that she wants to tag along on a mission to kill Lucifer himself.


	7. Yes

“Why does he get to go and not me?”

“Zach’s looking after him, right? He’ll be fine.”

“ _And_ me.”

“Don’t care. He’ll have a much easier job looking after you from this side of the city., anyway.”

She grits her teeth and feels rage rising up from beneath the surface. Her hands were alternating clenching and relaxing motions next to her sides. She needed the distraction. 

Dean, now sitting in the chair Cas had left absent, poured himself a glass of whiskey. His older twin, however, remained just where he was. Blocking her view as green eyes pierced down at her. 

Part of her wanted to slap the stubbornness out of his pretty face. Another part remembered the last time they stood so close and made her want to do the exact opposite. 

“Why are you taking me?” she hears Dean from behind her. 

It brings her back to the present. 

“I wanna know what’s going on.”

“Yeah, ok.” 

Deen puts his hands on her shoulders and gently nudges her aside. She resists at first, but made a note to readdress her demands later. If anything, she wanted more answers. 

Once he got her out of the way his attention fully focussed on Dean. 

“You’re coming because I want you to see something.”

“I have eyes too.” She mumbles. But she doesn’t think they hear her.

“I want you to see our brother.”

Dean furrows his brows and scoffs. Confusion written all over his face. 

“Sam? I thought he was- dead?”

“Sam didn’t _die_ in Detroit. He said yes.”

“Yes?”

“Wait... you mean- “

“That’s right. The big yes. To the devil. Lucifer’s wearing him to prom.”

Dean is staring at him with eyes wide. His mind probably holding the same thoughts she had. They’d lost Sam for good this time. She didn’t want to believe the accusations made, but… 

“Why would he do that?”

“Wish I knew. But now we don’t have a choice.”

“It’s in him and it’s not getting out. We’ve gotta kill him, _Dean_. And you need to see it. How bad it gets. So you can do it different.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Zach said he was gonna bring you back, right? To ’09?”

“Yeah...”

“When you get back home you say yes. You hear me. Say yes to Michael.”

“That’s crazy. If I let him in, then Michael’s gonna fight the Devil. Battle’s gonna torch half the planet!”

“Look around you man! Half the planet’s better than no planet, which is what we have now!”

Deen’s voice rises and she can see the veins on his hands more clearly as he puts the colt into a ragged bag. He moved angrily, yet restrained. It was as if this Dean had learned to control his temper. 

“If I could do it over again I’d say yes in a heartbeat.”

“So why don’t you?”

“I’ve tried!”

He drops the bag on the table and slams his own hand down next to it.

“I’ve shouted yes ‘till I was blue in the face. The angels aren’t listening. They just left. Gave up. It’s too late for me, but for you- “

“Oh no, there’s gotta be another way.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I was cocky, never actually thought I’d lose. But I was wrong. Dean, I was wrong. I’m beggin’ you. Say yes.”

They stare at each other for an endless moment. One reading the other, trying to get into each other’s minds. Ironically being the same mind after all. But it seemed Deen didn’t find anything he was looking for in the eyes of his younger self. If anything, he looked disappointed, almost hurt. 

“But you won’t. ‘Cause I didn’t. Because that’s just not us, is it?”

He shakes his head and leans back. 

“And losing _her_ …” 

Their attention is focussed back on her as two heads turned in her direction. 

“…that’s just gonna be our fault, now isn’t it?”

Deen has the bag back in his grip and throws it over one of his shoulders, his slumped shoulders, and moves towards the door. Once he opens it, he halts briefly. 

She inhales, waiting for the words to leave his mouth, but he just stands there, eyeing her. Then his eyes flicker to Dean and his gaze drops to the floor. He shakes his head and smiles the saddest smile she’s ever seen. 

He closes the door behind him. 

-

“I’m going after him.” 

“Wait- “

She turns to see Dean moving towards her. He hasn’t gotten rid of that lost puppy look ever since he heard the revelation on Sam. 

“We should talk.” 

“Dean, I- “

“Look, I get it. You need more answers. You wanna know why he won’t take you. But the guy’s a mess. You sure you want more intel on what happened to you? What happened to Sam? ‘Cause honestly, after everything he just told me, I just wanna get back home.”

“I’m not asking you to come with me. I just- “her face reddens involuntarily. 

“You wanna know why he kissed you.” 

Dean shakes his head and for a second she thinks he’s gonna burst into laughter. But his face stays stuck on a small grin instead. 

“Yeah, it’s been one wacky weekend alright…” 

She sighs and pushes him aside. 

“Wow, hey- c’mon. You could ask _me_.” There’s a glimmer in his eyes she’s seen before. One he saved for the girls he usually met in bars and with her, whenever he was in the mood for making flirty comments and wicked promises. 

Of course, he never meant them. 

Well. Up until now. 

She wasn’t sure now anymore. 

“I’d rather ask your older, wiser self, thank you very much.”

He scoffs. 

“Wiser my ass.” 

“You’re not overly fond of what you’ve become, huh?”

“I’m not _overly_ fond of what he did to you.”

“Technically, what _you_ did- “

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” He shushes her. 

Dean is standing in front of her, arms folded over each other. There was a distance between them, but still, he felt closer than he actually was. Close enough for her to smell the scent of whiskey coming off of him, anyway.

“D’you have any idea why he did that?” she asks carefully. 

She sees how his eyes widen briefly, before turning to something behind her. He clears his throat and half-smiles at her, faking ignorance when he looks back. 

“What? No.” 

It makes his brows furrow in a funny way and it makes her smile.

She smirks up at his reaction, stepping closer. 

“You sure about that?” she teases.

“Yeah, definitely. And, I mean, he probably doesn’t remember either.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, so you probably shouldn’t bother asking him. Old age and all that.”

“Oh please!”

They smile at each other and for a moment she forgets the whole bizarre situation Zachariah had gotten them into. The millions of people infected with a demonic virus, the possession of her best friend by the devil himself, the drug-addicted angel she once regarded as her one and only solace of calm and order. And the kiss. 

“I need to speak with him.” She says quietly.

“I know.”

He takes one step and he almost looks intimidating, staring down at her like that. But she decides she’s brave, and boldly meets his gaze. She doesn’t even flinch when she feels a hand pressed on her waist.   
It rises towards her back and she’s suddenly launched into his chest. 

She expects him to give her some speech on how she’d be able to find him back here if things got too intense with Deen, but there are no tremors vibrating through his chest. No words leaving his lips. 

He just holds her like that. And she doesn’t mind. 

At all. 

“You pushed me away last time.” 

She puts effort in moving her chin up, so she could peek up at his face. He faces down and their noses almost touch. 

“Risa could’ve caught us.” 

“Yeah right. _You’re_ the one with the ‘connection’ remember?”

“Don’t remind me.”


	8. The reason why

She spots Castiel waiting for someone next to the door entrance. He has a cigarette between his lips and he’s admiring the night sky. It’s been a while since she’d been able to just look at him from a distance. Even though _this_ Castiel was a lot harder to look at. And she didn’t mean it in a ‘he looks so much more handsome without a beard’ way, but seeing how the effects of a future apocalypse had taken its toll on him, that was the hard part.  
Yes, he looked a lot more relaxed in his loose blouse and eternal grin tattooed on his face. But she had trouble believing he’d actually be happy all the time. Without the drugs forcing it on him.  
At least when her old angel smiled, she knew he was genuinely happy.

“You’re here! I was, uh- Could I have a moment?” he’s suddenly unsure of what to do with the cigarette he has in his hand. 

It smoulders slowly. The dim light of a nearby candle, hanging on the wall behind him, revealed the last cloud of smoke leaving the rollup. On cue Castiel decides to throw the damn thing away and clears his throat. 

She steps closer, nodding. 

“I was determining a way to, um, show you what happened when-… you know. When you died.” 

“Uh-uh” 

A wave of amusement washes over her suddenly. Cas may have learned how to master the female body, but her mind was very much still unexplored territory to him. The stammering sound of his voice was one she could relate to. One she’s heard countless times before. And enjoyed. 

“So, let me get this straight. On one, there’s Sam turning himself over to the devil. Two, my guardian angel turns into a pot smoking hippy. And last but not least, Dean goes through menopause and decides that, the first thing he feels like doing when seeing me again, is to shove me against a wall and fulfil all his long lost porn fantasies. Did I miss something?”

“No. I think you covered it all.”

He gives her a warm grin and half of his lips are curled upwards. She’d enjoy it more though, if he wouldn’t smell like weed standing so close to her. 

“You really let yourself go, huh?”

“I’m enjoying life to the fullest.”

“I can tell.” 

“But that is not why I wanted to speak with you. I, uh- “ 

He stares down at the floor beneath his feet, shifting his weight from heel to toes. She almost feels sorry for how awkward he made it look. 

“Cas?”

“I’m not an angel anymore.”

The confession had opened her eyes so widely she could feel draughts of the wind against them. 

“With you gone, I… I went mortal. The angels left around the same time. When they bailed, my mojo just kinda went…” he motions his hand as if it were a crashing plane. When it reached its bottom he made a soft exploding sound.

“But, Cas, that doesn’t have anything to do with me. If they left, then they’re the ones that took your powers away. Not-”

“You wanna know how I found out?” he interrupts.

She sighs, not entirely sure where this conversation was going at. But she decides to close her mouth and to listen instead. Her hand reaches up, signalling for him to continue. 

“Dean locked himself in the Impala for most of the time. Taking extra cases, long nights and _heavy_ drinking. He wouldn’t come home for weeks at a time. And I had… no idea what he was up to. I mean, I guess he took extra cases. Not that he’d tell me. He didn’t want to be near anyone, including myself. And suddenly I had no one left.”

“Don’t- “

“So one night, on one of those rare nights where Dean tried to catch up on sleep, and I do mean _tried_ , I slipped outside to find the Impala. He crammed the trunk with more weaponry I’ve ever seen before, so finding it took me more effort than anticipated.”

“What were you looking for?” she asks quietly.

Something told her she wouldn’t like the answer, however. 

“An angel blade.”

“Castiel, don’t you dare tell me- “her cheeks were damp and she tasted the salty mixture of tears on her lips when she opened them. 

It had gotten darker outside, but it could’ve just been the foggy effect of her wet eyes. 

“It worked just like any other blade would have, I suppose. There was no grace to replace the blood. And there was _a lot_ of blood. It’s funny, ‘cause at first I thought I was dreaming. What angel bleeds instead of spilling grace? That didn’t make any sense.”

He’s grinning again. But it only added up to her own sadness. 

“Why are you telling me this?” her voice cracked.

“Have you ever, um, seen Dean cry? I have. A lot. He tries to hide it though, which is reasonable. Can’t have our fearless leader showing any weaknesses. But that night… He found me lying on the parking lot. He found me, and uh, excuse me for not telling it as accurately, but he cried that night too. Of course, I _was_ on the brink of dying, so it could’ve just been my imagination- “

“ _CAS WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS!?_ ” 

She shoves him against the wall and has her hands clamped into his blouse, forcing him to collide with the concrete hard. 

He’s shaking. And she almost lets go of him, until she realizes the reason why. 

Castiel was laughing at her. 

She feels her heart drop into a bottomless pit. Her arms suddenly felt too weak to support him any longer and she drops her grip. They fall to her sides and she steps back, refusing to look at him any longer. 

“And I’ve wondered, believe me. Come up with millions and millions of theories…”

She shakes her head. She’s angry. But whenever she felt the urge to clench her fists together, she’s too sad at the same time to actually muster up enough energy. 

“Why…” she starts.

“Why are you telling me this?”

He turns her around, forcing her to look at him. Now that they stood face to face she held her breath in to avoid coughing up the scent of weed and smoke. 

“Because I want to know why you did it!” 

“And how the hell would I know!?”

“You decided the world would be better off without you. You made a _choice_.” 

“I haven’t made it yet!” she forces his hands off her. 

“I would _never_ choose to leave you. Castiel, I would never!”

A bright light suddenly blinds her eyes and she’s forced to raise her arm up in defence. There were four jeeps driving towards them, headlights burning at full capacity. When she thinks the light could physically burn her cornea, it dims in the slightest way until it disappears completely. 

Out of each of the four jeeps a man descended. Probably the grunts Castiel had summoned for their expedition tomorrow morning. 

He sighs loudly and reaches for something in his pocket. She hears it rattling in his hands, but when something finally got within eyesight she is startled by a voice calling her name. 

“What’s going on here?” 

Deen stepped out of the first jeep. 

“Nothing.” The former angel calls back. 

He held an orange container in his right hand and threw its entire content into his mouth. After he swallows he gives her one last look and moves past her. 

“Cas, don’t- “she attempts.

“I’ll be in my tent.” 

The cool tone of his voice almost reminded her of her own angel. The marble one, incapable of manipulating her emotions purposely. The one she longed to see, now more than ever. 

“What did he- “Deen halts when he stands close enough to regard her face. His expression turns to frustration and he has her in his grip within seconds. 

“Tell me.” 

“Tell you what? That I screwed up both of your lives? I’d rather send you a letter. I’m better at expressing my feelings that way.”

“Alright stop that. You know that’s not true. Tell me what that hippie said to get you so upset.”

“The truth?”

He grits his teeth and she sees him come to a decision in his mind. Deen didn’t look to happy with it, however, and she fears she won’t like it either. 

“You’re coming with me.”

She feels too weak to protest.


	9. Bobby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :)  
> I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank everyone for reading along and bearing with me as I struggle through the remaining chapters. Your comments are very much appreciated and I hope you keep enjoying the story! <3

She’s handed a crystal glass halfway filled with amber liquid. Her eyes dart briefly to the little white scars on his knuckles before she takes it from his grip. It would be wiser, however, not to address them and to avoid engaging in another vivid argument on the things she _could_ have prevented. She’d had one too many of those for one night.  
But for someone who’s future self hadn’t been able to accomplish a single thing in this timeline, she’d been doing a great job up until now. Lots of things were established. Good and bad, however. And right now, she got exactly what she wanted. An audience with Dean’s future twin. 

“I know you’re not one for strong drinks.” 

Deen is facing her, sitting on the edge of the chair opposite of hers. They’re back in his cabin, alone. A few candles were lit, and after Deen’s insisting, the small fireplace had been brought to life as well. Something about the way she felt as cold as ice to the touch, or so he complained. He has his elbows on his thighs and his hands were folded in front of him.  
It makes her think back of the position Dean had been in not long ago. Of course, Dean had been crouching somewhere in the bushes.

“But whiskey’s all I got. The women don’t drink-… usually.” 

His eyes crinkle when he gives her a small smile. It’s the first time she’d seen him do that, and it made her wish he would do it more often. Something about the way it made his forehead relax almost made his scar there disappear from view. If only for a brief moment. Deen almost looked like his former self again. Almost.

“It’s fine, thank you. I, um... I don’t think I ever told you that.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Deen smiles again, but this time it unfolded a much sadder expression on his features. As if he were recalling an unhappy memory. 

“You never had to. I know a heavy drinker when I see one. And you ain’t one of ‘em.”

“I drank just as much beer as you and Sam had whenever the opportunity presented itself.”

“Beer and whiskey aren’t the same thing.”

“Well, what about that time in Dakota? I remember a certain someone having to finish two bottles of liquor after another certain person managed to pass out from drinking too much at a drinking game.”

“That’s a lie and you know it. Sam drank those two bottles. You got whatever drops were left.”

“I got to enjoy the prize, though.”

“What? The keychain you never used?”

“No. Dean Winchester lying in his motel room for a full day, hungover and temporarily allergic to sunlight. Sam and I took pictures. But I don’t think we ever told you.”

They’re both grinning like idiots at this point. And for a small second she feels as if she and Deen were secret lovers, hiding in the dim light of candles in a small room. Away from the world and the people and the complications they brought with them. She couldn’t care less if zombies started clawing their way inside. In her eyes nothing could keep her away from him at this point. 

He chuckles once more and it fades away into the now silenced room. Deen is eyeing her, a hint of admiration in his eyes. Or maybe something else entirely. She didn’t know _this_ Dean well enough to tell what he was feeling by just looking at him. That was a skill she’d have to learn all over again. 

Uncertain of how to respond to his visual interrogation, she glances down at her glass and starts spinning its content in her hands. If she started blushing she could always blame it on the alcohol. 

“Talk to me.” He suddenly demands.

But there’s no commanding quality to his words. It must’ve come closer to a desire than anything else. 

She glances up, unsure of what to say. Somewhere in his eyes she hoped inspiration would come to her naturally. Of course, staring back into those emerald eyes of his only had the opposite effect and emptied her mind completely.  
After blinking twice, she reaches the conclusion that there really was no turning away from the situation at hand. The one Castiel had so painfully reminded her of. So she gathered all confidence she believed she had and began speaking. 

“I think I understand why you kissed me.”

His expression turned into one of a marble statue. Impossible for her to decipher. Yet, she still expected him to crack some sort of emotion, some little tell to give her a clue of what he was feeling. 

Of course, future Dean was a stone-cold, fearsome leader capable of hiding his emotions. 

“Do you?” he asks. Not even the tone in his voice gave anything away. Damn. 

She feels her breathing change into a slow, steady rhythm. She hadn’t realised how cold she really was up until this point, now that she felt the warm air leave her lips.

“Cas said I made a choice. Which could only mean I willingly put myself in danger, but-… the only time I could imagine myself doing that is to do it so no one else would get hurt. Now, Cas believed he was hallucinating when he saw me, so something tells me he must’ve seen me die. He would’ve been able to accept the fact that there was no way I could’ve come back because he saw it happen with his own eyes.”

Deen is still staring at her impassively, but the way his eyes responded to her every words told her she had his full attention. So she continued. 

“But, you- “ 

Half of her lips curl upwards in a sideway smirk. And she sees him frown at the gesture briefly. 

“When _you_ saw me, it was as if you believed I’d been gone on a long trip, somewhere far away and I’d finally come back home. As if, from what I could gather from what Cas told me, you never really accepted I was gone in the first place.”

She drops her gaze down to his knuckles. He still hasn’t moved, but the colour of his hands were fading into a distinct white. He had been clenching them together all this time. 

A sigh escapes her lips and she puts her glass behind her to free her hands. Reaching over, she places them on top of his and squeezes lightly. 

“I believe my sacrifice deserves more credit than you deciding to go through menopause.” She whispers. 

Deen leans closer, putting all his upper bodyweight onto his elbows. While doing so, he pulls her towards him and they’re face to face, a softer expression now visible on his face. He licks his lips before he finally opens his mouth to speak. 

But then there a three loud knocks on the door.

A muscle in his jaw clenches together and he slowly removes his gaze from her to stare at the door. Annoyed. She thinks he believes he could shoot the person standing on the other side with his stare. If looks could kill, however, he might even be successful. 

“What!?” 

“Don’t _what_ me. You never lock your door when there’s a mission the next day. Now open up, it’s cold.”

She’d recognize that old nagging voice anywhere. 

“Bobby?” she whispers, turning to Deen. 

He unfolds his hands from hers and stands up to move towards the door. He makes big steps, colliding with the floor to the point where he’s almost forcing it to sound like he’s stumping.  
The door opens and Bobby looks up at him. Angry would be best suited to describe the look he wore on his face. 

“You try movin’ around in a wheelchair when you can’t feel your hands any lo-… What’s with the candles? Am I interrupting something?” he tries to sneak a peek, forcing his chair inside, but Deen conveniently happens to stand in his way. 

“Talk business Bobby. I’ve got a big day ahead of me.”

They stare at each other in silence for a moment before Bobby decides to let it go. 

“I, uh, wanted to wish you luck and all that. Cas told me I wasn’t invited to the big show, so maybe we could share a beer for good luck sake?” 

Deen smiles down at him and they’re having a moment, she can tell. But when she turns to look away she hears him reject the offer. 

“I’ll wake you first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t forget.”

The door is closing, but a hand reaches from the other side quickly, forcing it to a halt. 

“Could I at least get you to hand me a beer? I’m all out myself.”

“Bobby- “

“You ain’t the only one who has trouble sleeping, son,”

Deen sighs and orders him to wait as he keeps the door at agape. He strides past her, giving her a dramatic roll of his eyes and something resembling a smirk. But she couldn’t be too sure as it disappeared as quickly as it occurred. 

Bobby, however, had different plans and now stormed in through the door. He rolls into the room at full speed and discovers her sitting in her chair. He’s surprised, to say the least, seeing her there. Just as she was upon witnessing his little break-in. 

“What the hell, Bobby!?” Deen orders, striding back. 

“She-…”

“Hi” she smiles. Her hand moves up to give him a shy wave. 

“So it’s true. And, past you, he’s here too?”

“Who gave you that information?” 

“Who’dya think. He had the men rounded up, telling them how they shouldn’t be alarmed by a potential clone tagging along tomorrow morning.”

Very subtle, Cas. She leans her elbow on the table behind her and rubs her head with her hand in a way to relieve the tension building there. 

“I’ll talk to him.” Deen tells him.

“You should. Now better than later. But, son, you let the hippie meet your twin first instead of me? Her, I understand, but…”

“Tell him to meet us here and to bring _Dean_ with him. I’ll introduce you before we take off tomorrow.”

“Will do.”

Bobby takes one last glace towards her and nods. He reaches for his cap and places it against his chest, almost as if it was crucial to him to address her with respect.

“I, uh… It’s good seeing you.” He tells her. 

She smiles at him, relief washing over her suddenly. After visiting the old man’s house she’d been worried he hadn’t made it. But to have him there, breathing and every much alive, she could only release her troubles over him from her mind. 

He leaves and closes the door behind him, rolling back outside to retrieve the others. And she wonders briefly how much time she’d have left alone with Deen. He didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry himself, anyway. He just stood there, in an upright position in the middle of the room. Then his head jerked up, as if a thought suddenly crossed his mind. He made his way towards her, and she thinks he’s settling back into the chair he once occupied, but instead he stops once he’s standing next to her. She glances upwards, curious as to what his next move would be.

“I’m sorry” he says.

She snorts. The gesture made him frown down at her, surprised. He brushes it off, however, and recomposes himself. One long arm is extended towards her and she takes it, still unsure of his actions. Deen pulls her up and they’re standing in front of each other, hands still entwined. He licks his lips again and there’s a glimmer in his eyes. His current expression resembled that of a puppy seeking permission to play. It only extended her grin. 

“God I’ve missed that smile.” He murmurs suddenly. 

Then, with one strong pull she’s launched into his chest, his arms closing around her not a moment after. Her face is nestled in his chest and she conforms to the steady beat of his heart. Deen himself was occupied with nuzzling his nose on top of her head. His arms grew tighter around her, securing her firmly into place. Not that she minded, but she couldn’t help but have mixed feelings on the matter. The gesture broke her heart a little on the inside. 

He must've really missed her.


	10. Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finally added the number of chapters this story will eventually end up with!  
> I was going to conclude with this chapter, but it turns out Deen and our own female character needed an additional chapter to clear everything up between the two of them. 
> 
> So, once more, thank you for tuning in! And I'll see you next chapter, for the last time sadly :(  
> Please leave a comment if you feel like recommending me something else to write or if you liked the story !

“Was it really necessary for her to be here too?” 

She eyes Risa suspiciously. The woman had made herself comfortable in Deen’s couch, after pouring herself something to drink. Using _her_ glass, nonetheless. 

Risa glares up at her, cocking her head to one side. Her ponytail, the one she had not hours ago during their last meeting, was now pulled loose and her hair swayed along with the motion. 

“If Dean has anything to say, he can say it with me in the room. We trust each other, actually. I mean, it’s not like I’m the one who suddenly ran out on him.”

She launches forward, fists clenched at her sides and ready to swing at Risa’s pretty face. She manages to stride two long steps in her direction, determined. But an arm makes its way across her waist and she’s pulled halfway into the air, legs dangling in all directions. 

She’d forgotten Dean stood next to her. 

“Hey, easy. Let it go!” 

She obeys. Forcefully.

He puts her back on her feet, but his hand remains on one side of her waist. Probably containing her, making sure she wouldn’t do anything else stupid. The irony of it earns a scoff out of her. _Dean_ was the reckless one out of the pair. Not her. 

“She’s with me, so be nice.” 

Her eyes widen when she turns to face him. Apart from the expected surprise, an expression close to disgust rises within her briefly. And she thinks she can see Deen from across the room looking equally confused. 

The older twin had placed himself leaning against the door. He hadn’t moved after letting the others inside of his tent. She thought maybe he’d be quicker to send them back outside that way, but after his extensive rant on how Cas should’ve kept his mouth shut she wasn’t so sure anymore. He could’ve simply called him out on it, instead of listing all possible worst case scenarios and describing them for him. 

The intense eye-contact he had with the former angel while ranting was something else entirely, too. 

“And by being with you, you mean...?” she begins.

“I mean we were together when Bobby called for us. Calm down, warrior princess.”

“I hate that nickname.”

“I know you do. Now will you let it go? She’s here and she’s staying.”

Risa smirks, audibly and takes a sip from her drink, pleased. She thinks that, when she gets back to her own time, she might pay Risa a visit and tell her to stay the hell away from Dean. 

“Fine.” She complies. But her mind wonders idly why he had a sudden change of heart. Earlier this day they had both been taken aback by the woman that is Risa-the-angry-maybe-girlfriend. Now she stood here, restricted by him, so he could stand up for her. What did they talk about? Or were they doing… 

She shakes her head in a way to dismiss of the thoughts running through her mind. Instead she finds herself looking at Castiel. He had placed himself in front of the fireplace, warming his hands and giggling incoherent words to himself. It was as if he hadn’t just been scolded for bad behaviour. The careless soul. 

He turns then, almost as if he could feel her eyes on the back of his head. And smiles. Actually _smiles_ at her. The most face-splitting grin he has ever seen the angel give her.   
She frowns, but- what the hell, she returns his smile with her own. 

Poor Castiel had probably forgotten all about their little outburst earlier. How she’d pushed him against the wall, and how he’d accused her of leaving him here, all alone. 

There wasn’t a single trace of any of that in his current expression. 

“It’s almost midnight, son.” Bobby rolled back into the room, his face sad and yet, a glimmer of hope sparked in his eyes. This was the night they’d put an end to Lucifer himself. But sacrifices would have to be made. 

“I know.” Deen’s eyes were set on the carpet beneath her feet. Staring at nothing in particular, lost in his own thoughts. 

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s give the trucks a final check.” Risa stands up, winks at Dean and pulls Deen with her to leave the room. 

He shrugs Risa off at first, but after glancing over her and the hand still placed on her waist, he sighs and follows after the scary brunette.

The door closes and Dean retracts his hand. 

“I see Risa has the potential to pull both past and present Winchesters to herself.” She folds her arms across her chest and turns so she can look up at him. 

He raises a brow at her.

“I can say the same to you.” 

“We were _talking_ , Dean.”

“So were we.”

“And that’s why her ponytail came loose, right? It pulled at her hair so tightly, it disabled her ability to speak.”

He sighs, exasperated. A hand is pressed against his forehead, enhancing the frustration he felt at her words. He looks around him then, hoping for any support from the remaining men in the room. But they keep quiet. On one, there’s Castiel who’d much rather spend his time admiring the fireplace, and on two, Bobby who looked too sad to worry about anything else. But he eyed the pair nonetheless. 

“Really? You think I’d spend my last night here with some woman I just met?”

She cocks an eyebrow at him herself. And after the words sink into his mind too, he rolls his eyes and continues.

“Yeah, yeah, alright. You know what I mean.”

“Do elaborate further.” She muses. 

Dean steps forward then, pressing his chest across her folded arms. He leans down and stares into her eyes, which were left lingering with the slightest hint of frustration. But there was amusement there too, she could tell. 

“You’re adorable when you’re jealous. All green and bothered because you thought I was gettin’ it on with Risa.”

She bites the inside of her cheek, not giving him the satisfaction of bursting out over something so small and so stupid.   
But Dean notices the effort she put in containing herself, and he smirks anyway. 

“What were you talking about? With Risa, I mean.” Bobby rolls closer to the pair and Dean stands back up straight. 

He licks his lips, considering whether to have a share-and-care moment with the rest of the group. But he decides he doesn’t really care whether he does, so he starts talking. 

“You.” He says, looking back at her. 

“Fascinating.” Cas suddenly says. And somehow she thinks he isn’t referring to the fire anymore. 

“We talked about you. Everything Deen told her about you and everything that happened to him, or- me, when you left. And I’m gonna be honest, yeah, she tried to make a move. I mean, the way that woman could move…” he whistles, obviously enjoying reliving the memory. But then he sees the look she has on her face and he clears his throat. 

“I said no. Obviously.” 

She gives him a sarcastic smile at first. But then she realizes… Who was she to tell Dean who to sleep with and who not. They weren’t together. His future version just kissed her, that’s all. It was _complicated_. That’s all.

“You didn’t have to. I’m sorry. I’m making too big of a deal outta this.” She says, dropping her gaze to her feet. 

Two fingers force her chin back up and she’s back to staring into his green eyes. He’s smiling at her, a ridiculous grin across his lips. And she feels a warmth rising in her cheeks. 

“So, you like Risa?”

“I do.”

He whistles as he did before.

“The woman’s got spunk.”

She hits him on his shoulder, but laughs. She could never be mad at Dean. Ever. 

“And I like you.”

Her lips purse together. She’s shy all of a sudden. Damn him and his womanizer experience. She remembers Sam and her making fun of him for it. She never thought they’d work on _her_.

“Hell, I love you.”

He never actually dropped his fingers from her chin. 

“What made you all sappy?” she tries to change the subject. 

“So, what, you and Risa had a little girl talk? Painted each other’s nails? I bet you look good in braids.”

“Laugh all you want. But she opened my eyes.”

“Obviously, if you want to take a better look at her hips…”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I can’t leave this place, or, time- or whatever, without you knowing that. D’you hear me?”

“I-“ she hesitates. She licks her lips, but decides.  
Nodding up at him, she pushes his fingers up and presses his hand flatly against her cheek.

“Yes. And I love you too.”

Trying to avert his visual interrogation, she glances sideward and sees Bobby with an even sadder expression on his face than before. 

It’s as if he’s on the brink of bursting into tears, and she wants to know what could’ve possible made her tough, bearded surrogate father so upset. She takes the hand away from her cheek and places it in her hand while she makes her way to Bobby. She tugs at it, forcing Dean to follow. 

“What’s wrong, Bobby?” she asks. 

The man stares up at Dean and actually wipes away a tear. 

“I remember how broken you looked when you heard she took her own damn life to save yours.”

She frowns at his words. No one told her why she died. Or who she died for. This was news. She would have the ability to save Dean’s life in the future. And he would try to stop her. Except, she wasn’t so sure she wanted him to. Here he was, leading a whole camp, fighting his own way through the apocalypse. She’d never be able to do that. The world needed people like Dean more than her. 

“I saved Dean?” 

“No you _died_ for Deen.” Dean corrected. 

“You were so damn drunk all the time you couldn’t even tell the difference between the living and the dead. Nearly got yourself killed. Despite all the effort she put into sacrificing herself for you.” Bobby put off his cap to quickly scratch his head but continued then. 

“I never thought I’d see you again. Or Dean _smile_.” His voice was softer now, more gentle. 

“Me neither.” Cas called then.

They turned to see the former angel raise to his feet. He stretches, throwing both arms up in the air, scratches his butt and then walks towards them. 

“When Zachariah sends you back… I, uh-. I want you to tell me, past me, that I love you too. And that he should get that stick out of his ass and pay more attention. Not to screw up and save you in time.” 

She feels Dean squeeze her hand once and then lets go. She takes the opportunity to embrace Castiel, but remembers how he had always hated the use of physical contact. 

“Sorry, I keep forgetting you hate hugs. Or, you know, you used to. I’ll miss this feeling. Not the smell. You still smell of weed, Cas.” She feels him shake from laughter in her arms.

“What made you think I hated hugs?” he pushes her back slightly, but keeps his hands on her arms. 

“Come on, you’re practically counting the seconds before you can finally let me go. All your hugs last exactly 5 seconds. Don’t deny it.”

He drops his arms and stares at her dumbfounded. 

“I read it was the average amount of time for hugging a loved one. It would be awkward to hold you longer.”

“Awkward? Cas!” she shoves him away. “Never!”

He grins. Pleased with her reaction. 

“Good. Tell me, once you get back.”

He looks at Bobby and nods before moving towards the door. Somehow she felt the inevitable passing of time. Midnight was coming up. And Cas would have to get ready now, too.   
He stops when he reaches the door and looks at Dean one more time.

“Boss.” He smiles. 

“Not yet, Cas.” He returns.

He shakes his head, grinning, and then walks out of the door. The second he does, though, Risa and Deen re-enter. Her hair is back in a ponytail and Deen had oil spots on his shirt. The trucks must’ve been ready for them. 

“So this is goodbye?” she whispers. 

“It is for me.” Risa says. She strides into the room to reach something out of a drawer and puts it in her pocket. 

“I guess I’ll see you... never?” Risa shrugs and leaves the room. 

“Don’t take too long!” she calls before the door closes behind her completely. 

Deen crosses his arms and nods at Dean, indicating the time had come for their mission to commence. Their inevitable battle against the devil. 

“I’ll see you back in 2009, I guess.” That must’ve been one of the weirdest phrases she’s ever used in her life. And she went hunting with the Winchesters. So that said something.

“Don’t worry about me.” Dean steps forward and presses a soft kiss on her forehead, lips brushing against her skin in the slightest of ways. Her cheeks flared up again, only this time she doesn’t seem to mind as much. 

“I’ll try.” She answers. 

He smirks and turns to say his goodbyes to Bobby. Since they were having a rather private moment, she averts her gaze and her eyes meet Deen’s. He’s staring at her intently. It’s as if he’s waiting for the others to leave so he, too, can say his goodbyes. Somehow she knew he’d rather not have the others hear what he has to say to her. Must’ve been something in the way he looked at her. 

So as soon as Dean leaves the room (after glaring at Deen, knowing he was leaving her alone with his future twin), and took Bobby outside with him, the door is closed behind them almost immediately. 

“So…”


	11. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! It took me longer than was necessary to find a proper closing 'ceremony' between the two main characters, but I'm pleased with how it turned out. Sorry for the long wait! I hope it was worth it.

They decided to head outside.

It took the hunter one quick beckoning motion towards the door and they were off.

There were no particular dark clouds hovering over them, but the air itself had a gloomy feel to it. A weird combination, considering the field surrounding them had all sorts of colours. The red tomatoes and orange pumpkins, the many green leaves and blueberries...  
Deen's garden had a small fence surrounding the crops he grew here. Cabbages, carrots and another pile of green she couldn't quite name.  
She didn't expect Deen to be the one looking after them, however, with the supply missions and errands and all.  
Oh, and being the supreme leader of the group of survivors of course. 

Still, the mental picture she had of Deen swiping away the collected sweat on his forehead with gardening gloves left an impression. The sunlight leaving a halo along the features of his already graceful face. The sound of birds chirping in nearby trees. The shadows of several members of the undead roaming in the background..

Well, one wasn't like the others.

"We never found a body." He says out loud, not really looking at anything in particular.

"A body?"

She doesn't get where he's aiming the conversation at until they stop in front of a particular tree situated at the far left of the field. It wasn't the biggest tree out of all the ones she saw surrounding them, but it was the most beautiful. The most colourful. 

A small inscribed stone lay buried near its roots.

_In loving memory of our friend,_  
she who sacrificed all for few,  
we miss you 

The quote was followed by several symbols she didn't recognize. She thinks it's Enochian at first, words written down for her by Castiel, but Deen clarifies:

"It's a, uh- ritual we found. We buried your jacket underneath the tree. As long as it blooms you'd be in peace."

The sentiment has her clench her chest involuntarily. And all at once the realization of the death of her future self, her own death dawns upon her. 

“You understand it now, don’t you?”

She looks up at him, fighting away the stinging sensation in her eyes. 

“Understand what?” she questions.

Deen shifts from one leg to the other, crossing his arms. He licks his lips and leans forward. She realizes that he has something of importance to share, something she’s obviously not seeing at the moment. A mix of embarrassment and curiosity washes over her briefly.

“That this is real. Five years from now you’ll be dead, and there’s nothing to stop it. No angels, demons or other damn creature powerful enough to stop it from happening. Nothing except for yourself.”

Her mouth drops open involuntarily. It’s as if he’s scolding her. 

“You can blame me for my own death all you want, Deen. But I know why I did it, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

He tries to interrupt her but she’s feeling particularly brave at the moment, so she raises her voice and claims the conversation. 

“If dying means keeping you alive, - Dean Winchester, who has done so much for humanity already… I mean, you’re leading your own group of apocalypse survivors for crying out loud! You are humanity’s strongest asset. And you are the one I’d die for. Over. And over. And over. Again.”

She crosses her arms and huffs. Adrenaline took the better of her, but she believes her message came across the way she intended it to. Though, she began to doubt her sudden revelation when the moments after were filled with a silenced tension in the air. 

The hunter breaths out her name in a sigh. Frustration, exasperation, _sadness_ , all at once expressed. All in one name. 

“You’ve saved my life so many times… Why is it so hard for you to simply accept that I’d do the same for you?”

She steps forward, and as she does she notices how Deen’s whole body seemed to be trembling. As if he were trying so hard to keep his composure together. And here she was, thinking she’d be one step away from crying. Of course Deen could be holding back from bursting out in _anger_ all the same. 

“Because- “he says through gritted teeth. His voice breaks a little, and she understood at that moment, that it wasn’t anger tormenting him. Frustration, maybe, but not anger. Never at her. 

His gaze shoots up suddenly then, eyes scanning the scenery behind her. Deen’s brows furrow together in alarm and he has is arms on her instantly, pushing her behind him. She turns and sees a handful of undead walking towards the garden.  
There’s another fence surrounding them, the big one covering all of the camp’s outskirts, but there’s no one guarding this particular part of it. She figures the ones responsible are already waiting in the trucks, ready to accompany Deen on his trip to kill Lucifer. 

“I can take care of them. Keep watch while you and the others make your escape.” She says, turning to face him. 

He still has one of his hands on her, keeping her close to him. So when he stares down at her, listening to her words, their noses are almost touching. 

“There’s time. I can stay an- “

“There isn’t. Why’d you think they’re here in the first place? He’s sending you a message. It’s time to face him.”

“We’re not done here.” He says curtly. 

“I know…” she whispers.

Deen leans forward and presses his lips to her forehead briefly, placing both his arms around her shoulders and pulling her into his embrace. He’s squeezing her closer, and her hands find his back, where she squeezes back. He has his face pressed against her head, nose against her neck, breathing her in. 

She’s suddenly reminded of how this could be their last moment together. It would be all or nothing. Either Deen kills the devil or the devil ends up killing him. Again, she tries to push him closer to her, but she’s surprised when she feels him letting go of her. 

“Dean- “her voice betrays her; the word leaves her in a soft breath. 

“Promise me.” His own voice is raspy, low.

“I- “

“ _Dean_ will change. He knows grief, he knows pain, but he’ll deal with much more than that.” He licks his lips in-between words. “If you love him- “

She steps on her toes and presses her mouth on his. Instantaneously he has the back of her head in his hand, and presses her further onto him. His lips are determined, moving ferociously against her own. And she feels longing, she feels _his_ longing. As she stood here, in the middle of the field kissing the man she loved, the ecstasy of it all slowly subsiding and turning into…melancholy.

“I love you.” She says sadly

He lets go of her then, and turns to fully face her. From one of his back pockets he takes a gun and checks its ammunition. After putting it back in place, Deen takes one quick glance at the undead roaming closer. He holds the gun in between them. As if he’s serving it to her.

“Eleven bullets. I count seven of them, but you’re a good shot.”

She takes it from his hand, and as she does he firmly has her wrist in his grip. 

“Give us time. Once we’ve left the area you hide. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“Good.” 

He takes another moment to look at her, shifting his gaze from one eye to the other before moving back to the cabin and rendezvous with the others. 

Deen is halfway across the field before she calls to him. He stops, expecting a final goodbye. 

“You take that son of a bitch down.”

The ghost of a smirk crosses his face and he nods. 

She’s alone on the field seconds later. Her head turns towards the fence and she sees how three of them have already made it far enough to put their limbs through the fence’s holes. A sigh escapes her lips and she readies her gun. 

-

Five of them had been takes care of, lying on the floor in a charmless position. Small puddles of blood had formed themselves around the bodies, and the sight of it makes her temporarily uncomfortable. 

Her head pops up when she hears the sound of tires shrieking, and in the distance she sees three trucks heading out. A figure is standing beside them, guiding them. She thinks it’s Chuck, but he’s standing far from her and she can’t be sure. Their current course is allowing the trucks to pass her on their way and she makes sure no other undead can pose a threat.

Two shots were fired and two zombies dropped to their death. After putting the gun in her pocket she sees the first truck approach her. 

Inside, Castiel and Dean are waving at her, horn honking. She waves back and clenches her heart together. No harm will come to them, she reassures herself. 

The second truck passes and she sees two men and Risa, who sat behind the wheel. They pass her swiftly, but she believes Risa nods at her when she did. A feeling of concern washes over her briefly. She may not have been best buddies with Risa, but she was one tough cookie. The people needed her too, so she hoped she’d come back safe too. 

Her hands clench together involuntarily as she anticipates the third truck. Deen was last in line, operating the last vehicle. She readies herself and raises a hand to her heart.  
It passes and she sees Deen glancing at her through the window. Another man is behind the wheel, giving her a closer scoop at Deen. He’s mouthing something at her, and she almost couldn’t make out what, because they drove by so swiftly. But she thinks it’s ‘Be safe’. 

“Isn’t that just the cutest…” she is interrupted by a familiar voice from behind her. 

It doesn’t take her any time to process before she’s already aiming her gun at him. Without hesitation she’s firing whatever ammo she had left at the angel in front of her.

Sadly, he manages to dodge every bullet. 

“Anger issues!” he calls once he realizes she’s out of ammunition. Zachariah wipes away at his blazer, putting his attire back in place. 

“You _asshole_! Put me back in 2009.”

He raises his hands and approaches her slowly.

“NOW!”

He stops moving altogether. 

“Alright, alright… Someone’s cranky.” The angel mumbles. “I take it you learned your lesson?”

She grimaces at him, not lowering her gun at him. The idea of having a weapon aimed at the damn thing that brought her to this frustrating reality manages to soothe her nerves. 

“Take. Me. Back.” 

Zachariah sighs but snaps his fingers. The scenery surrounding her is all blurred and moving fast. Before she has time to think about how nauseous she feels, they’re standing in Dean’s motel room. 

“There.” The angel says. 

“Where’s Dean?” 

“I’ll fetch him in a bit.” Zachariah moves around the room, setting his eyes on the bed and he decides to sit. 

“This is exactly why Castiel is the only angel I can tolerate.” She mumbles to herself more than to anyone else.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” She lies. “Please bring Dean back.”

“All in due time” Zachariah has now placed his entire body on the bed, arms leaning behind his head. 

“You’re not leaving Dean out there for another second.” She hisses.

The angel sighs and leans up just enough to raise one of his brows at her sarcastically. Her hands clench together at her sides and he notices her frustration. 

“Your love for the Winchesters is admirable, if not stupid.” He retorts. 

Zachariah is gone in seconds and she grasps the opportunity to steal the bedstead for herself. She’s sitting at the edge of the bed and puts her elbows on her knees to support her head with her hands.  
It happens involuntarily, but she’s overwhelmed all at once. Deen pleading her not to kill herself, Sam saying yes to Lucifer, Castiel becoming a human, sex-crazed hippie, a zombie-apocalypse… It’s too much. 

What was she supposed to do…?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
